


We Were Always Meant to Be

by shyath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating, F/F, Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21858181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyath/pseuds/shyath
Summary: Despite all the wrong turns they have taken, Fleur and Hermione were always meant to be.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Padma Patil, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger, Gabrielle Delacour/Nymphadora Tonks, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 109





	1. Stop Falling

"Stop," Hermione hissed, clawing at Fleur's shoulders.

"You don't really want me to stop," Fleur shot back, hiking Hermione's skirt up as she backed them into a corner.

"Shut up." But she stopped putting up a fight. Always had. Always would.

"You just hate it when I'm right," Fleur whispered, gentling considerably as her hands moved up to cup Hermione's cheeks.

"This can't be right. Whatever we're doing." Though she wrapped her arms around the Veela's neck, buried her nose into Fleur, drowned herself in this intoxicating, illegal sensation.

"Do you want to stop then?" Fleur asked, a hint of dread in her tone as her nails dug into Hermione's skin, left a mark, broke the rules (never leave a mark, never give _them_ a reason to suspect - because no one would really believe that knitting is all they do).

"Stop what?" There was a small smile on Hermione's lips as she moved forward. "I thought you did already."

A hair's breadth away from a kiss and Fleur whispered seriously, her eyes looking into Hermione's, "Stop this ... falling in, out, down, whatever. Do you want to stop?"

"I would never," Hermione replied before she pressed their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Written for Challenge #187 ~ Falling at femslash100.


	2. To Watch As You Leave

I want to turn into forever every single moment we are together (what little we have), to imprint upon my skin every single one of your touches (as tentative or as bold as they come), to commit to memory every single sound you whisper into my ear (the angry, the happy, the sad, everything) - because come morning your half of the bed is always empty and the only trace left of you is this lingering scent upon my lips, my nose, my fingers, my everywhere. I have once tried to watch as you leave, but to watch you stand by my side of the bed as your fingers shake, to watch you kneel down and feel the press of your lips against my forehead, against my hastily shut eyelids, against my trembling lips, and to watch you finally stand up to take your leave and hear the fervent murmur of your "I love you, Fleur" (which you never ever choose to share during my waking moments) before you Disapparate into the early hours of the morning - to watch all this is beyond the limits of my sanity, to watch all this is beyond the capabilities of my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Written for Challenge #189 ~ Watch at femslash100


	3. My Heart Is Conditioned to the Beat of Hers

We really should not be doing this (skin against fabric, hands frantic in the dark, cold fingers against warm wetness, salty tracks down our cheeks, ragged breaths against racing pulses), but my heart claims victory over my brain (for once) and it feels so good to drown in the feverish brightness of her eyes (she looks at me like I am the only one that matters, the only one she sees).

Fleur is a hopeless romantic with a grandiose vision of what and how true love should feel (taste) like. She pursues her heart (me) doggedly, desperately (as if it were going to be the last thing she is to do, as if I were going to be the last flavour on her tongue, the last warmth on her fingers). The first few times could have been chalked up to drunken mistakes, heated moments, weakness on my part to that small, precious smile of hers, but how do I explain the continuance of this affair of ours (the sequence of 'yes' from my lips with not a single 'no' to signal some sort of logical awareness on my part of how wrong this is)? The first few times have led to some sort of a beginning. There must be something wrong with me because I cannot (will not) imagine an ending to this. There is something particularly life-inducing in the frenzied way she holds me (like it is only when she touches me that my heart jump-starts back to life).

What do I do with my heart? It feels like it is no longer beating as it should, it races without my permission and it jumps at the merest hint of her (her name, her presence, the very memory of her): my heart is conditioned to the beat of hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Written for Challenge #208 ~ Past Prompts Revisited: #167 ~ 'Eagles' Song Titles: What Do I Do With My Heart? at slashthedrabble


	4. Our Bitter Happily Ever After

This love is not sweet at all. It makes me want to cry and it makes me want to break. It is all consuming and it takes and takes (without giving back, without yielding in). What does it say about me that I decide to stay after all? Like a roller-coaster ride, it takes me way high up, stops my heart, plummets my entire being into some unknown depth only then to crush all the air in my lungs (again and again). This love is like a physical pain, like a cancer – it refuses to let me go, it festers and it grows. It hurts.

"Hermione? Why is it so dark in here?" Good old Ron. There was a click and the lights turn on.

"I must have not realised it's gotten dark," I rasp. My throat feels raw. I have not been crying. Or so I keep telling myself. (I should have no more tears left in me.) "Did you just get back? How was work?"

"Excellent. I'm exhausted though. Bill was working me like a slave. That brother of mine has no more humanity left in him," Ron whines good-naturedly as he moves around our bedroom. His voice comes closer and I am once again reminded that it has become increasingly more difficult to pretend that I want his hands on me. "I've missed you," he whispers - his lips on my ear, on my neck, on all the places that I carry _her_ (like an invisible brand on my skin).

"Y-yeah," I respond stiffly, "I've missed you too." He wraps his arms with more purpose around me. If I were to tell myself enough times that it really is her pressed up against me, maybe I can carry through with this. I have been in this (farce of a) relationship for long enough. I can carry on. (I must. I have to.) Even as my hands clench into fists and my eyes close out the rest of the night.

* * *

I have not done anything I need to repent for. Or so I keep telling myself. (Except for lying to Bill - and everyone else by extension.) To be honest, sometimes I forget the distinction - between Bill and Hermione, between the person I am when I am with him and the person I am when I am with her. It is easier not make a noise either way though. That way I will not call out the wrong name. Though it is hard to mistake one for the other. Even in the heat of passion, in that moment between falling down and climbing up, between salvation and damnation - the taste, the feel, the very scent of her remains so overwhelmingly strong (so real in its vividness, so vivid in its mock-reality) that Bill always fades into the background as he makes love to me (and I make love to the memory of her).

It should be so very easy to do what my heart (my very soul) desires so. Like all things in the real world however, the right things are never the easiest and they are rarely the best. If only we have met earlier. If only I have never met Bill. If only she never met Ron. If only. If only. There is a multitude of possible scenarios in my head, but there is only one outcome that I seek. If life were to take a path different to the one we are currently on - maybe I will never have met Hermione; maybe she will never be the Hermione I know (the Hermione I love). Maybe. Maybe. I seek only that most elusive form of happily ever after. For now, I will take what I can. If it were only in the dark that I could have Hermione, I willingly allow myself to be lost forever (in her). Just ... let her be with me.

* * *

I have never felt so ugly (or so beautiful) than when I am with Fleur. All my emotions (guilt, love, pain, joy) are intensified, dramatised to the point of them being comical, out of this world, impossible to keep within the boundaries of my small (petty) heart. She is like a drug I cannot live without, a poison that builds up till I almost fail to see how much it hurts (only I feel it still) - this vision that thrusts everything else in my life to the periphery of my concerns. When I am with her, she occupies the full extent of who I am. There is no one else I need to pay attention to but her. When she is gone (as she is bound to), the world comes back in full force and I am left with the guilt of our actions, the weight of my indiscretions, the burden of my love and the gaping hole left in the wake of her absence. How can a supposedly pure emotion be this ugly? How can my wanting to love her (so desperately, so madly, so completely, so obsessively) be this gluttonous monster?

Ron thinks I have finally lost it (crying every single night, listless every single day), for which I am a little grateful. He has been cautious not to broach the subject of marriage. He has proposed a few weeks ago and I have yet to accept. I do not want to. I cannot punish him (me and her) any further than this. I do not know how to broach the subject of separation. Even if I were to separate from him, what will I do? Fleur is still married to Bill (and I have apparently married to a future with no shape).

* * *

The Weasley clan, and their close friends, gather in the Burrow every third Saturday of the month. It is a tradition everyone has wholeheartedly adopted upon the ending of the War. They have had need for something normal, something to take the edge off, something to shelter them from the outside world (even if it were for a little while).

It is the first Saturday in a couple of months that everyone has successfully managed to come to. To say that Mrs. Weasley is beyond pleased will be an understatement. She shoos the adults out of the building and keeps the younglings around her feet as she bustles about to bake cookies. The men file out with their broomsticks in hand and the women hang back. Ginny and Angelina usually join the men, but today they stand by the other Weasley women, either by marriage or by association, and together revel in the warmth of summer.

Angelina murmurs something about "finding a cool place" and begins to walk away. Audrey and Fleur set to follow. Pansy, after giving Ginny a peck on her lips, quickly joins the rest of the women. Ginny and Hermione are soon left to themselves. The silence between them is by no means oppressive. They have known each other for almost as long as Hermione has known Harry and Ron, and perhaps even better. They were lovers briefly in Hogwarts, but then the War started and Ginny ended the relationship when she fell for an American witch named Kate, who she eventually broke up with to be with Pansy. After that, Hermione had gotten back with Ron (maybe because she was lonely and a part of her was still pining after the one that got away). Ron had been ecstatic and it had taken him less than half a year to ask her to move in with him. She had not rejected the offer. Now, after living together for a year, he had finally proposed.

"I heard my brother proposed," Ginny whispers softly.

"That he did."

"I take it you're not going to say yes."

Hermione pauses. "I'm not in love with him, Gin." Ginny can always tell if Hermione were lying. Might as well tell her the truth right away.

"No, you're not."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Do I sound like I'm mad?"

"Shouldn't you be?"

Ginny turns slightly to look at Hermione. "Maybe I should be mad." She smiles sadly. "But then I take one good look at you and all my anger just dissipates."

Hermione gives a hollow chuckle. "What do you mean?"

She smirks. "Have you looked into a mirror lately, Hermione? You look awful."

"I feel awful. I don't know what to say to him."

"The truth. Just tell him how you really feel."

Hermione's eyes dart across the lawn and latch onto a figure she knows instinctively to be Fleur. "I don't think that'd be a good idea, Ginny," she whispers. Fleur has stopped in her tracks and turned around to return Hermione's gaze.

Ginny follows Hermione's line of vision and sighs. "That's what I used to say about Pansy. There's no straight path for love, Hermione. You'll have to hurt someone in order to be happy. I know I did." Ginny takes Hermione's hand and squeezes it. "I hurt you and I hurt Kate before when I fell for Pansy and you and her have recovered." She brushes her lips over Hermione's knuckles and whispers sincerely, "If you have to hurt my brother to be happy, do so. Love cannot be all nice and fuzzy, Hermione. You of all people should be able to understand that." Ginny's eyes flit away into the distance as well. "She's worth hurting for," she says in a commiserating tone.

Hermione's head snaps back to Ginny. "Y-you know?"

"I'm not blind, you know," Ginny chides gently. "And I was in the same position." Ginny sighs and pats Hermione's hand in a gesture not unlike her mother's. "A good friend of mine once told me that you should listen to your heart. Never have any regrets." She pauses. "Besides, we're already in our early thirties, we don't really have time to be goofing around anymore."

"Thank you, Ginny."

"You're welcome. We all deserve a happily ever after. Grab yours, in whatever form it takes, with both hands."

* * *

Fleur's eyes practically smoulder as she keeps her gaze on Hermione across the dinner table. The brunette blushes profusely and murmurs empty excuses back to a concerned and oblivious Ron. Ginny and Pansy, who shares this end of the huge table with Fleur, Hermione and their respective companions, look at each other and roll their eyes in exasperation.

Fleur clears her throat and says to Bill in a voice loud enough to carry through the din, "Dear, will you excuse me? I have a most outrageous headache." Bill says something back, but Fleur shakes her head. "I'll get some rest and I should be fine." She kisses Bill on the forehead and then gives a nod in the general direction of everyone else before disappearing up the staircase. It is a painfully obvious ruse, but Hermione has been avoiding her all day. That, combined with the fact that they have not seen each other since Ron and Bill have returned, very nearly drives Fleur mad with her need for Hermione.

Hermione makes up some excuse about needing to go to the washroom and Ron lets her go reluctantly. He has been hoping that tonight will be the night Hermione accepts his proposal and he can finally announce it to the rest of the clan. Has he not been an outstanding boyfriend? What else can Hermione want? He catches Ginny's eye and quickly looks away before he catches Pansy's as well. He still has a problem with the two of them being together. Never mind that they have been together for nearly a year and a half. The only good to come out of their relationship is Hermione returning to him. He puts on a smug smile and engages Harry in another conversation. Of course Hermione has returned to him in the end. After all, Hermione is his.

* * *

"Hey," Hermione says in a small voice as she locks the bathroom door behind her.

Fleur is facing away from Hermione, looking out of the small window at Merlin-knows-what. A few seconds pass before she finally turns around to regard the brunette. A small smile breaks the stony expression she has sported. "Hey, I've missed you," she confesses sincerely. All their prior 'interactions' have not involved much talking. They have never had the luxury. No emotion has ever been named either. They simply cannot afford to be truthful to themselves that what they have goes beyond the physical.

Now Fleur has broken the rules and Hermione does not know how to play the game anymore, does not know how to say stop anymore (like she always has, because if she were to say it often enough, loud enough maybe everything will actually stop). "I - I've missed you too."

Fleur's eyes light up like they have never done and she steps forward to take Hermione's hands in hers. She holds them gently in hers, as if weighing them, before bringing them up to her lips.

The kisses Fleur places on her knuckles are nothing in comparison to the one she has received from Ginny earlier that day. Hermione has thought she knows what 'being in love' feels like. Then Fleur comes along and redefines the term for her. It sounds like a line straight out of a cheesy romance, but oh, it is so true. She keeps her eyes on Fleur's as the quarter-Veela turns Hermione's arms over so that she can place her lips on each of Hermione's wrists, feel the beat of Hermione's erratic pulse as it dances to the tune Fleur is playing. Neither of them says anything, but there is something infinitely different in the way they touch each other at the moment. There is no rush and there is no sense of impending guilt. There is no clawing or pushing and there is no force involved. For the first time since they have started those many nights ago, Hermione can honestly call this love sweet.

Fleur places one of Hermione's hands on her cheek and intertwines her fingers with the other. "I like this," she declares simply.

The hilarity and inappropriateness of that simple sentence is almost impossible to describe. They have started the entire courting ritual where it should have ended, ended it where it should have started, but Hermione will never have it (have Fleur) any other way. "I like this too," she replies. Remembering Ginny's words from earlier, she continues tentatively, "I like you too." That sounds wrong. She shakes her head and tries again, "I ... love you." She likes the way those three words roll of her tongue. "I love you, Fleur." She definitely likes how that sentence sounds. "I love you with all my heart, with all my soul, desperately, madly, completely, obsessively." She smiles (even as she feels tears beginning to well in her eyes). "I am so, so, so in love with you that it hurts -"

Fleur cuts her off with a quick kiss on her lips. Nothing like the kisses they have shared before. No tongue, no teeth, just a brush of their lips - something chaste, something innocent (as if to wash away all their previous sins). "Let me," Fleur croaks as she lets her own tears fall freely. She does not sound perfect. She does not look perfect. To Hermione, she is the most phenomenal vision of her life. "I am so hopelessly in love with you that I don't know what to do." She chuckles. "I don't even know what to say. You've taken all my lines."

Hermione cups Fleur's face and presses her forehead against Fleur's. "You don't have to say anything. You don't have to do anything. Just ... be with me."

Fleur chokes on her sobs and replies fervently, "I can do that."

* * *

Ron is starting to fidget in his seat. Hermione has been gone for close to twenty minutes now. The rest of the Weasley clan has gone into the sitting room for coffee and port. The only ones remaining in the kitchen are Ginny and Pansy, Ron and Bill.

"I should go check on Hermione," Ron announces, getting up.

Ginny shoots her hand out. "Wait, wait, it's probably nothing!"

Pansy shakes her head and throws her hands up in defeat. It seems that her lover is determined to help the two seemingly star-crossed lovers get together. Personally, she wishes Fleur and Hermione all the best. She does feel somewhat sympathetic. After all, their situation is not unlike the situation Ginny and her were in, but Merlin!

"Do you know something I don't?" Ron asks suspiciously.

"No, nothing. I'm a girl, is all. And girls take an awfully long time in washrooms. You know that!"

"Hermione is never in the washroom for this long."

"Don't be daft, Ron. Just because the two of you live together doesn't mean you know her habits inside out."

"I'd rather check and be proven wrong."

Whatever Ginny is about to say next is interrupted by Hermione and Fleur's reappearance. Her eyes quickly catch their interlocked hands and she gives the two of them a quick thumbs-up. Pansy smiles supportively. Understandably, everyone else does not have such a good reaction, or even knows how to react.

"How are you feeling, darling?" Bill says, quite oblivious still, or maybe he is just in denial.

"Bill, we need to talk," Fleur says quietly, "in private." Bill looks subdued, but he nods.

"Ron, we need to -" Hermione goes to say as well.

It does not go as well at Hermione's end as Ron shouts to interrupt, "No, we do not need to talk! I do not need to hear whatever you are going to tell me!"

"Don't be an ass, Ron!" Ginny shouts back.

Pansy pulls Ginny to her feet and tugs her out of the kitchen. "It's not our place, Gin."

Ginny looks like she is about to show whether or not it is their place when she catches Hermione's eye. Looking down, she follows Pansy out of the kitchen without another word.

"Ron," Hermione begins slowly.

"No, I don't want to hear it!" Ron screams again. In his heart, he knows where Hermione is going with this. He has seen the signs for months: how she keeps her eyes and mouth shut whenever they make love, whenever he touches her. The tone with which she is speaking to him now is the exact same tone she has used when she first broke up with him when they were still in Hogwarts. She had come into the Common Room, holding Ginny's hands as she apologised – He looks up and stares hard at Fleur. "You!" he yells. "You stole her!" He lunges at her, his wand out. Hermione steps quickly in front of Fleur, who is frozen in place by the sudden turn of events, and Bill - Bill steps forward and strikes Ron down with one huge fist.

The sound of Ron's wand clattering away from his unclenched hand, Bill's heavy breathing and the beginnings of Hermione's sobs finally shatter the loaded silence that follows.

"You two okay?" Bill says in a surprisingly even tone as he kneels down to check on his youngest brother.

"Y-yeah," Hermione replies shakily. She turns to check on the still catatonic Fleur. "Fleur. Love, are you okay?" she whispers.

"Oui," Fleur finally responds, looking down at Hermione. "Oui, mon amour."

Bill smiles sadly at hearing the interaction between the two women. "Ron'll be fine," he proclaims after a while. Standing up and turning around to face the two women, he says with a gentleness that belies his build, "He should have been more mature about that. I can't say I'm not hurt or angry with the two of you. I'm still a Weasley after all and we're famous for our temper. But I do love you." He smiles sincerely at Fleur. "And I want you to be happy. You haven't been happy with me for the past couple of months -"

"Bill -"

"Don't. I'm not foolish and I'm not in denial. I know what I know. Just let me walk away with my head held up high." He leans forward and gives Fleur a soft kiss on her cheek. "To be honest, I would have taken this a lot harder had Ron not lost his head. Seeing him like that though ... I will never hurt you. Begrudging you happiness will not be in keeping with that. So, be happy, Fleur. And Hermione." He grins and tries to say jokingly, "It's not everyday you have an ex-husband with such a large heart, is it?"

Fleur whispers back before giving Bill a kiss on his cheek, "Merci, Bill." She wants to say something like 'You will find someone who deserves you', but given the circumstances, such sayings will just sound obligatory.

"Talk to Ron in the morning. Give him some time. You're the one that got away for him. Twice. It's a little hard for him," Bill goes to say to Hermione.

Hermione lets her tears run their course and nods her head vigorously.

"I'll take Ron home. I don't think he'd want to be under the same roof with you two for now. Good night," Bill says, picking Ron up easily and Disapparating almost immediately.

"I feel so -" Hermione begins.

Fleur turns Hermione to face her and says fiercely, "Don't say you regret this! Please don't! I don't think my heart can take it."

Hermione shakes her head. "I'd never! I love you. I'm in love with you! I'd brave a hundred Voldemorts if I have to." She takes a deep breath. "The only happily ever after I want is the one with you in it." Fleur smiles slowly. "Even if it is not a perfect fairy tale ending, even if it is a flawed one, as long as it is our bitter happily ever after, I will be fine. We will be fine."

At least for now.


	5. I Wait With Bated Breath For You to Envelop Me

I wait with bated breath for the sunlight to filter through the curtains (seep through the little gap beneath my eyelids) before I reluctantly let go of the pretension that I am still asleep.

It has been three days since I have left the Burrow with Hermione in tow, since then I have yet to go back to the apartment I share with Bill to collect my belongings. It feels so much easier to just hide in this hotel room with Hermione (to keep my arm around her and to breathe in the scent of her that overpowers the natural fragrance of springtime). Make no mistake, I do not (will not, cannot) regret my actions, but to go forward from this point is daunting nonetheless. I wait for some sort of sign that today will be the day that I stand straight and begin setting up for a life together with my true love.

The little voice in the back of my mind scoffs at my naivety and I cannot help but agree. I must admit I fear for the future, it is not in my nature to wait. In the months we spend together in absolute secrecy, it has always been Hermione that does the waiting. I am afraid that I will disappoint her, that I will hurt her, that –

"Fleur?" Hermione whispers, her hand squeezing around my little finger.

"Oui, mon amour," I respond, nipping the bit of her shoulder that peeks through the sheets.

"You feel tense," Hermione replies, purring a little as I continue to rain down kisses on her increasingly exposed skin (it is warm enough to do without a cover, is it not?).

"I was thinking," I whisper, pausing in my ministration to relish in the glow of her skin under the sunlight (because I have not this luxury before when darkness is the only safe domain for us to profess our love in). "It is nothing to worry you about." It really is not. The moment I sort my thoughts (fears) out, I shall be fine, I shall be dependable once more.

Hermione turns around to face me, her eyes alert even when a hint of sleepiness lurks in the corner. "I can see your frown lines," Hermione declares, running a finger across the aforementioned lines.

"Perhaps I am simply getting on in years," I joke, taking her finger and kissing the tip of it.

"You are thirty-two this year, darling, I don't think so," Hermione says gently. "You don't have to keep your fears to yourself. That's what I'm here for. I want to share with you all the good moments, all the bad, all the moments in between."

I sigh softly. Nothing escapes my beautiful, smart Hermione. "I was just thinking … of the future. I don't know what to expect of it. What if I hurt you in the process? It will break me."

Hermione looks very amused.

"What's so funny?" I ask, slightly miffed. I bite down on the finger I still hold.

"Nothing, nothing," Hermione says quickly, pouting as she inspects the teeth marks around her index finger. I kiss it gently and she smiles brightly at me. "I've been thinking the exact same thoughts recently," she explains. "Doesn't that show that we just care about each other a lot? It's a good thing." Hermione pauses and presses her lips against the side of my face. "Fear gives way to strength." She kisses the corner of my lips. "If I were to get hurt in the process of loving you, if I were to get broken, I believe that you will put my shattered pieces back together." She kisses me on the lips: a lazy, thorough kiss (with not even the slightest of gaps for the sunlight to pass through). "I love you. I'm not going to say I'm not afraid of the future. I am afraid of what we'll have to face, afraid of what my parents will say, what your parents will say, what our friends will say." She takes my hands in hers. "But then I feel your hand in mine or mine in yours and all my fears are assuaged." She kisses my hands haphazardly. "And I look into your eyes and my heart races, my cheeks warm, my mind calms. Remember what I told you three nights ago?"

"How will I ever forget?" I whisper. My eyes are growing hot with tears welling up.

"I'd brave a hundred Voldemorts if I have to," Hermione says fervently. "And I will. I'd brave a hundred pair of shocked, furious parents if I have to, be they muggles or Veelas." There is a quiet streak of defiance in her voice and a stronger one burning in her eyes. Gryffindors.

"I love you," I whisper sincerely, my worries quieted with several words from her. "I was afraid and you fought off my fears. My knight in shining armour," I add, remembering something she has told me so many nights ago.

"Shall the damsel reward this knight with a kiss then?" Hermione asks cheekily, her hand trailing down my arm to rest on the flat of my stomach.

I throw the sheets off of us and straddle her in one fluid motion (some good to come out of participating in the War). "A kiss and so much more," I purr before I descend.

Maybe tomorrow will bring me to finally collect my belongings from Bill's, hers from Ron's, but for now, I shall occupy myself with my beautiful, beautiful beloved.


	6. Tell Me I Do

"Are you sure I look okay in this?" Cho asks as she picks at her dress nervously.

Padma suppresses a sigh as she says once again, "You look absolutely breathtaking, sweetheart. Now, will you please stop fidgeting? They should be starting the ceremony any time now."

* * *

"I wouldn't have to convince you not to leave Fleur at the altar, would I?" Ginny asks in what she hopes sounds like a serious tone, though she has to fight hard to keep the smile off of her face.

"Funny," Hermione says dryly, "I've always wanted a funny best friend."

Ginny smiles and says more sincerely, "I cannot be happier for you." She catches Pansy's eye and corrects herself, " _We_ really cannot be happier for you."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Why must you choose this blue?" Gabrielle grumbles as she picks up her older sister's bouquet.

"You look fine in that blue, Gabrielle," Fleur says patiently.

"I think you look gorgeous, Gaby," Tonks tells her girlfriend fondly. "I really think so." She leans down to whisper in her girlfriend's ears, "And I'm sure you'd look even more gorgeous when the time comes for me to undress you."

Fleur slaps her hands over her ears and shouts, "Why must you do that?! I'm still in the room!"

Gabrielle scoffs. "Like you can pretend to be so chaste yourself. Our beach house has really thin walls and I must insist that you cast a Silencing Charm the next time the two of you come for a visit."

* * *

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take this woman, Fleur Isabelle Delacour, to be your wife, your best friend, your everything in health and in sickness, in happiness and in sadness, in everything that life throws at you?"

"I do."

"Do you, Fleur Isabelle Delacour, take this woman, Hermione Jean Granger, to be your wife, your best friend, your everything in health and in sickness, in happiness and in sadness, in everything that life throws at you?"

"I do."

"By the power vested in me, I proclaim you wife and wife, best friend and best friend -"

"Just kiss already!" Ginny hisses from where she is standing. When everyone turns around to stare at her, Ginny's eyes widen comically. "Did I say that out loud?" she asks Gabrielle, who is standing next to her. Gabrielle looks too shocked to actually answer.

Hermione chuckles and speaks just loudly enough for Fleur to hear, "You heard the lady. Just kiss me already."

"I heard her just fine," Fleur whispers back, "and I intended to do that from the start." Wrapping an arm about Hermione's waist and pulling her close, Fleur asks, "Starting to doubt me already?"

"Never. Now shut up and kiss me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Written for Challenge #199 ~ Celebration at femslash100.


	7. What Comes After Happily Ever After?

"Mummy!"

Fleur jerked awake, flailing a little as she found herself wrapped securely in tanned and deceptively toned arms.

The shriek came again with an impressive increase in volume that managed to bring the intended recipient back to the land of the living. "Oh Merlin, what is it? Is the house on fire?" Hermione mumbled, a piece of hair in her mouth as she rolled on her back and rubbed her eyes sleepily.

Fleur laughed, gave her wife a quick peck on the corner of her lips and gracefully rolled off the bed onto her feet.

Hermione watched with interest as Fleur stretched in all of her naked glory before belting on a discarded housecoat. "I should go. She was calling for me."

Fleur was amused. "And she should be grateful to have two mothers. One of whom is a morning person who is willing to attend to her cranky daughter while the other tries to gather her wits about her."

Hermione pulled Fleur's pillow over to snuggle into. "You make an excellent point, Mrs Delacour-Granger."

"I always do, Mrs Granger-Delacour," Fleur pointed out with a wink as she slipped out of their bedroom into their brightly lit hallway peppered with Muggle and Wizard pictures of their family and friends.

Fleur laughed like she always did every time she passed a picture of the Weasley clan and stuck her tongue out at a rudely gesturing Ronald. She knew that the Hermione in the picture would be chasing after the Ronald in a few seconds, but she did not have the time to spare this morning to watch the resulting hilarity.

Fleur opened a white door with a cheerful sun sticker proclaiming "Bonjour, Soleil," Fleur called out to the snivelling toddler standing up in her crib and looking like she was gearing up for another bawl. 

"Maman," Soleil said pitifully, lifting up her arms and letting a few tears roll down her chubby cheeks. 

Fleur felt her heart squeeze, but she stood firm and raised an expectant eyebrow. 

Soleil frowned, sticking out her bottom lip.

Fleur crossed her arms and prepared herself for a tantrum.

Soleil's shoulders drooped. "Please, maman. Up."

Fleur wasted no time in picking up her baby girl, peppering her face with kisses and brushing her brunette curls off her face. "Why are you crying, my sweet girl?" 

Soleil clung onto Fleur's housecoat with one hand, exhaustedly dropping her head on her shoulder. "Un cauchemar," she mumbled, eyes fluttering closed as she felt safe enough to go back to sleep.

"Sleep, baby girl. Maman is here," Fleur crooned as she brought Soleil out of the room. 

She peeked into their oldest child's bedroom on the way back to Hermione and found Esme sleeping with her mouth wide open. Fleur bit back a laugh and slipped in to close Esme's mouth. She brushed back Esme's blonde bangs out of her face and closed the door quietly behind her.

Hermione was snoring when Fleur finally slipped in beside her with Soleil tucked safely between their bodies. Luckily, Hermione had managed to put on a shirt - probably knowing this would happen from the moment she was woken up by Soleil's cries. 

"Everything okay?" Hermione murmured, reaching across Soleil's body to link their fingers.

Fleur smiled, thinking back of the years without Hermione and their beautiful girls, the sneaking they had had to do, the hurt they had to cause to be together and the happiness they were now blessed with. "Everything is perfect."


End file.
